


Cliche

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bedsharing, Cliche, F/M, Fake Dating, Fluff, Gore, Roommates, Sex, Smut, Tropes, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 01:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16883319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Squishing the holy trifecta of fanfic tropes into one smutty fic.





	Cliche

“You’re kidding me,” you groaned, shoulders slumping at the clerk, who smiled apologetically. “And there’s no couch?”

“I’m afraid not,” the clerk replied. Sam touched your elbow, smiling softly.

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “We can deal, unless you wanna carry on -”

“No,” you muttered in irritation. “It’s another hour to the next motel and I’m exhausted. I want a bed. Any bed.” The clerk offered you the keycard and you snatched it, dumping your fake credit card on the counter. Sam followed as you left the office, wandering down the pathway to door number “7”.

It was a tiny room, the queen bed taking up most of it. You threw your bag onto the coverlet and glanced at Sam. “You want first shower?”

“You go ahead,” Sam gestured, pulling out his phone, “I’m gonna call Dean.”

By the time you emerged, Sam was on his laptop, tapping away and you flopped down on the bed next to him. “Are we sharing this bad boy then?” you asked and Sam chuckled. “I mean, I snuggle, just to warn you.”

“I’m sure I’ll deal,” Sam replied, keeping his eyes on the screen. “We’ve got at least another twelve hours of driving tomorrow. There’s been another victim.”

You slumped back and Sam shifted on the cushions, showing you the article. “Damn. That’s five. And we were seriously the closest hunters?” Sam nodded and you groaned. “That sucks. I’m gonna get dressed and order some takeout.”

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you squeaked as the towel tugged free - Sam’s shifting had pinned a corner of the material under his butt. Consequently, you fell, stumbling forward as your bare ass was displayed to the other hunter.

He blinked, staring as you got to your feet and rushed to retrieve your towel. You didn’t say anything, almost dying of embarrassment before dragging your bag from under the bed and disappearing back into the bathroom.

Ten minutes passed after you’d dressed and you  sat on the toilet lid, clasping your head with your hands as you tried to work up the courage to go back out into the motel room. A knock on the door made you look up.

“Are you coming out?” Sam called. “I ordered pizza. Your favorite?”

Was he going to ignore it? Ignore the fact that he’d literally seen your bare ass and probably a whole bunch else besides? Guh, it was humiliating - you shared living space at the bunker with this guy, hunted with him and his brother every day. How could you look him in the eye knowing he’d seen you nude?

As it turned out, when you opened the door, you couldn’t look at him. Sam didn’t say anything about the incident and when the pizza arrived, you ate in silence, him at the tiny desk and you on the bed. He looked ridiculous hunched over the little table but you were too embarrassed to say anything to him.

Tiredness crept up on you faster than you expected and you only managed two slices before your eyes were drooping. Sam noticed and smiled softly. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

“I’m okay,” you whispered, pushing the pizza away. Grabbing it, Sam removed the box. “Okay, I’m not okay.”

“Sleep,” he urged.

“You can sleep in the bed too,” you murmured, turning on your side and pulling the covers over you, not bothering to change out of your t-shirt and pants. Sam chuckled, clearing away dinner.

“I was intending to.”

Letting the reply slide, you remained still as Sam slipped into bed opposite you. The bed dipped under his weight and you held your breath while he settled, keeping a reasonable distance between your bodies. Your eyes met his and you let yours fall shut, all too aware of his gaze lingering on you.

Eventually, you fell asleep.

Sam was an unlucky guy. While he had grown up with a big brother that hogged the bed, he’d become accustomed to sharing space and wouldn’t move.

You were used to your own bed. The only times you shared was with girlfriends on drunk teenage nights out and with lovers. And when you were used to your space, you fidgeted.

After the fourth kick to his shins, Sam growled in annoyance, pressing on your shoulder. You didn’t wake up but you did fling your foot up, too close to his testicles for his liking.

“Y/N,” he hissed. Nothing. Sam tried again but you weren’t waking for anything short of an earthquake.

There was one option that presented itself as you rolled to put your back to Sam. He slid his arms around your middle, tucking you securely again his bare chest. You squirmed a little then settled - apparently being contained stopped your restless movements.

A little sigh left your lips and headed straight for Sam’s southern most thinking parts.

He hadn’t shaken the image of your bare ass, plump and pink pussy lips teasing him from between your thighs as you tumbled. It wasn’t a new thing, lusting after you, but now it was like he’d had a glimpse of heaven and he wanted more.

His cock thickened in his sweatpants and he knew that would most certainly wake you. The arousal wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he thought of horrific things to try and quell it and Sam briefly considered jerking off in the shower.

That would only lead to surrendering the bed to your flailing limbs and Sam couldn’t sleep on the floor. There physically wasn’t enough room.

He had to just try and sleep. As long as you stayed still, he’d be fine.

*****

Something was wriggling against him.

Light filtered through the blinds of the motel room and Sam groaned as he came to, feeling your pert ass practically humping against his swelling erection. The roll of your lower body against his was causing a friction that had every nerve in him on edge.

“Y/N,” he murmured. “Wake up.”

You went still and Sam frowned. Had you already been awake? Were you purposefully grinding onto his cock, knowing what it would do to him. How was Sam even supposed to ask?

“You want me to move?” he asked, his words coming out husker than he intended.

“No,” you whispered in reply, moving again and Sam pressed his hips forward, smiling when he was rewarded with a quiet whimper. Confidence bolstered, he slipped his hand around your waist, rutting slowly into you. “Sam…”

“Shhh,” he ordered, “let me make you feel good.”

You gasped as his fingers pressed into your belly, sliding down underneath the waistband. Sam didn’t stop until his fingers grazed your clit. The sounds you made were halting and barely audible over Sam’s slow pants and all you could focus on was the rough pad of his fingertip gliding over your folds. “Fuck, Sam -”

He pushed a single digit into your soaked channel and curled it just right to made you inhale sharply and Sam chuckled, his movements increasing, the morning sensitivity of his dick and the sudden eroticism of how he was pleasuring you making his climax even closer than he realized.

“Cum for me,” he coaxed, penetrating you with a second finger and you cried out, bucking against the heel of his hand. Wet warmth flooded his boxers and Sam groaned as he realized he’d just bust a nut in his pants like a horny teenager.

Both of you lay still for a moment, breathing heavily. Sam’s hand was still in your panties and he withdrew, leaving his hand draped over your hip.

Unfortunately, now he’d cum, the need to pee was greater than usual and Sam groaned when he needed to move. You didn’t speak, remaining on your side as he slipped from the bed, padding into the bathroom. He cleaned up the best he could, knowing he’d need a shower.

“Y/N?” he called out.

“Yeah?”

“Could you pass me some pants and boxers outta my bag?”

There was a shuffling from the other room and then your hand appeared, sticking the bag through the door. Sam grabbed it from you with a muffled thanks, his cheeks bright red. You shut the door again and leaned against it, trying not to smile.

Sam Winchester had cum in his pants.

You hadn’t even touched him.

*****

While Sam showered, you ran out to get food, picking up a few bagels from a little diner opposite the motel. When you returned, he was only wearing his boxers and you froze in the doorway, bagels in one hand and jaw on the floor.

Sam had his back to you. Droplets of water trailed from his long hair down over his back, following the lines of his muscular shoulders, down to the elastic of his underwear, slung low on his hips, just enough to see the crack of his ass.

How could someone’s back be  _that_  sexy?

You kicked the door shut and cleared your throat, getting Sam’s attention. He turned around with a grin.

Wrong move.

If the man had the world’s sexiest back, the party going on up front was winning Nobel Prizes. More water droplets were falling from that thick luscious mane of his, carving out a path between the defined pectoral muscles before merging into one huge drop that followed his defined stomach to soak into his boxers.

You didn’t dare follow it any further; you’d felt that beast against your ass this morning and just the thought of it was making you wetter than Niagara Falls in Spring. Sam smirked and your insides shriveled up and died while you forced a smile onto your lips.

“Breakfast?” you offered, holding out the bag and praying he took it before you spontaneously combusted.

Talking about what had happened in bed earlier fell by the wayside as Dean called. According to what he’d found out - not that you were listening while you were watching Sam squeeze his ridiculously delectable thighs into a pair of jeans - all four of the victims had been seeing the same marriage counsellor.

When he suggested you and Sam go see the same marriage counsellor, you balked. Sam seemed enthused by the idea but you had reservations.

“I can’t act!” you claimed when the call ended and Sam frowned. “I mean, I can do the fed thing, and I know we’ve done the fake dating thing for like five minutes before but -”

“Is this about this morning?” Sam asked.

“What?” Your reply was stunned and it took you a second to recover. “No, Sam, I just -”

“Because it doesn’t have to mean anything,” he assured you and you had never felt like someone had physically torn your heart out and stomped on it before. “I mean, these things happen. In the moment. If you wanna forget it -”

Did he want to forget it? Were you clutching at straws? Had you just been a warm body, convenient for him?

Sam was looking at you earnestly and the thought that he wanted to ignore it ever happened was humiliating. Your cheeks flamed with embarrassment and you pushed your feelings down, focusing on the job. “We should keep this professional,” you whispered, clasping your hands in your lap. “Where’s this marriage counsellor?”

*****

It was another twelve hour drive to Tacoma, WA and you avoided any casual conversation. Sam took the first six hours and you read in the passenger seat, occasionally bringing up something about the case. You hadn’t found much lore on the creature you were hunting and the wounds to the victims weren’t bringing up any results.

Sam stopped at a small diner around lunchtime and from there, you drove, leaving the research to Sam. By the time you passed the border into Washington, he’d narrowed down the creature to two possibilities - some kind of Vetala hybrid or a spirit.

“I got us an appointment with the marriage counsellor tomorrow,” Sam informed you. “We’re Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. Married for five years, two kids.”

You nodded, weaving in and out of traffic on the interstate. For this hunt, the Impala had stayed at the bunker - Dean didn’t trust your driving enough with her and you didn’t like driving the huge car anyway. While Sam lamented the lack of legroom, the Nissan was just big enough for you to be comfortable.

“We should find a motel,” you muttered, mentally adding “ _with two beds this time_ ”. Sam nodded but didn’t say anything else.

Once you’d checked into the motel, Sam found a place to eat and both of you left the motel on foot, walking in silence through the quaint houses toward the diner he’d located. You wanted to say a million things but they all felt like they would come out wrong, so you kept quiet.

Sam snuck looks at you and you pretended not to notice.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked when you’d reached the diner and ordered coffee.

“No,” you replied automatically. It was a lie and you both knew it.

Sam sighed, thanking the waitress when she returned with the drinks. You stirred more sugar than was necessary into the drink, too aware of Sam’s eyes fixed on you.

“Y/N, what happened this morning -” he started and you dropped your spoon, letting it clatter noisily to the table. “I know I said we could forget it but -”

“So forget it,” you shrugged, feeling your insides twist uncomfortably. “It happened, like you said. It doesn’t have to be a thing.”

Sam shifted in his seat, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. You thought you might puke; inconvenient as the waitress returned with two plates of burgers and fries. “What if -” He paused as the middle-aged server asked if he wanted anything else. “No, we’re fine, thank you.”

You weren’t. You wanted a large vodka and a memory wipe.

The waitress left and Sam poked at his burger like it might attack him. You didn’t press for what he’d been about to say, sprinkling your own fries with vinegar and popping one into your mouth.

Sam didn’t continue. He picked up his burger and you ate in the same silence you’d spent most of the day in.

It felt odd that night, sleeping alone. More than once, you found yourself laying on your side and staring at Sam’s stiff back, lamenting the fact that it was covered in clothing for a change.

Sleep didn’t see to be forthcoming and you remembered seeing a bar further down the street. Climbing out of bed, you slipped into your clothes and left the motel room after scribbling a quick note for Sam in case he woke up.

Maybe the beer in Tacoma was a little stronger than back home. Within an hour, you were chatting away to the barmaid, who actually seemed interested. The bar itself was dead and a dive but it wasn’t laying in bed staring at Sam’s gorgeous shoulders.

“Ugh,” you shuddered and the barmaid, Tanya, smiled. “Sorry. I keep thinking about him and I need to stop. It’s not going anywhere.”

“What makes you so sure?” she queried, refilling your beer. “You said you work together? At the F.B.I, right?”

“Field work,” you sighed. “Most of the time it’s easy but then we have to do things like -” You laughed, shaking your head. “Tomorrow, we have to pretend to be married for this counsellor woman. And I don’t even know how I’m gonna sit in the same room as him when I can’t even deal with sleeping next to him.”

Tanya chuckled. “Sounds like you need to be honest with him.”

“Pfft,” you dismissed. “You can’t be honest with a Winchester. They’re all self-sacrificing martyrs.” Getting up from the stool, you pointed towards the ladies room. “Girls is that way, right?” Tanya nodded and you stumbled toward the corridor that led away from the bar. It took only a few moments to relieve yourself and on the way back, you noticed a board with photos all over it.

Every single one of the victims was on the board.

Your phone started to ring and you pulled it out, peering at the screen before you answered. “Dean, dude, it’s 1am.”

“ _Wasn’t interrupting anything was I?_ ” Dean’s smirk was audible and you rolled your eyes.

“No. I’m at a bar and -”

“ _I found some more information on our vics_ ,” he interrupted.

“Was it that they’re all on a quiz team at the local bar?” you asked, staring up at the photos. Dean went quiet before asking exactly how you knew that. “I’m looking at their photos. I’m gonna go speak to the barmaid. She’s pretty chatty.”

“ _Keep me updated_ ,” Dean ordered.

You hung up, peering at the board. It looked like they were here with their significant other for every quiz and Tanya might know something you’d overlooked.

*****

Sam was quiet on the way to the therapist’s office. You’d filled him in on what you discovered at the bar, which was pretty much nothing. Tanya knew the couples but not well; she just worked the bar on quiz nights and her manager was responsible for running it and the photos. He wasn’t back in town until that night, so you’d decided to return with Sam and do some more interrogating.

The therapist was a nice middle-aged woman named Sandy and she welcomed you into her home, leading you to the comfortable lounge where she saw most of her clients.

“So,” Sandy started, pulling down her modest pencil skirt, “we only managed to speak briefly on the phone, Sam.” He nodded, giving her a tight smile. You were barely able to concentrate with the heat of his thigh against yours. Shifting seemed like it might be rude so you remained still, slowly burning up from the inside. “How long have you two been married?”

Sam took your hand, making you jump a little. The therapist didn’t seem to notice. “About five years?” Sam beamed, his award-winning smile on his face. You tried to match it, almost wishing the couch would swallow you whole.

“And you said the marriage was a happy one?”

“Absolutely,” Sam enthused, “like a fairytale.” Your stomach rolled; how thick was he going to lay this on?

“You have two children, right?” Your cheeks felt like they were going to burst into flame. Sandy looked at her notes; “Dean and Jack?”

“Yes,” Sam chuckled.

“And is there any trouble with the children?” Sandy’s eyes were on you now and you squirmed uncomfortably.

“Dean’s a handful,” Sam said, laughing. “I mean, he’s a teenager, so we would expect that. Girls, cars, junk food -” Sandy frowned, tilting her head.

“So, you were together young?” she asked, unsure how someone your age could have a teenaged son.

“He’s adopted,” you blurted out. “Friend of the family died,” the words came out haltingly, “and we took him in.”

Sandy nodded and scribbled something down which made you even more nervous. Why was that even logical? You’d done this sort of thing a thousand times. It was fake and yet you were worried this woman was judging you. “And Jack, your younger boy? How old is he?”

“Under a year,” Sam answered honestly and you tried to avoid eye contact with him as he glanced at you. “He’s a great kid. Quiet, smart -”

“You sound very proud of him,” Sandy commented. “Do you treat Jack differently because he’s yours?” Sam’s face went slack and you frowned, prompting the therapist to elaborate. “I’m just saying because there’s a distinct note of pride when you talk about Jack but Dean seems to be… more like an annoyance, although I can tell you care for him.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be talking about us?” you whispered, feeling very under the microscope.

Sandy smiled. “Part of a marriage includes the family as a whole. Fixing the unit,” she laced her fingers together in demonstration, “can be very helpful in fixing the individual pieces.” You nodded, acting like you understood. “Now, let’s discuss your home environment. What do you do for a living?”

*****

“That was a load of crap,” you growled, stomping down the steps of Sandy’s house with Sam trailing behind. “Fix the unit? The unit doesn’t need fixing!”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Because half of the pieces are missing,” he pointed out. “But at least we know something - it’s not her.”

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “No, I know it’s not. She’s too… saccharine. I’m telling you, it’s the bar.” Sam stopped by the car, unlocking it and peering over the roof at you. “I should go back over there. Poke about during closing hours.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded. “I’ll drop you off. I’m gonna head to the morgue and check out the victims.”

“Not gonna argue,” you muttered, sliding into the passenger seat. “Dead bodies. Ugh.” Your shoulders shook and Sam laughed under his breath, starting the engine.

“How you ever became a hunter -”

“Sheer stubbornness,” you sighed, clipping your belt in. “Come on, let’s get this done.”

The bar was locked when Sam dropped you off but you easily picked open the fire exit, slipping inside and praying there wasn’t an alarm system. Honestly, it shocked you how easy places were to break into these days.

There didn’t appear to be anyone around and you searched through the building thoroughly, coming up with absolutely nothing. As you were preparing to leave, your phone started to ring and you answered quickly.

“Sam?”

“ _You still at the bar?_ ”

“Yeah, why?”

“ _It’s a makire_ ,” he informed you and you scrunched your nose up.

“What the hell is a makire?”

Sam sounded breathless and a car door slammed in the background of the call. “ _It’s a Nordic myth. A creature that feasts on the entrails of dishonest lovers_.”

“Sounds gross,” you pointed out, moving toward the exit. “How do we kill it? Or find it, for that matter?”

“ _Dean’s working on it. We think beheading would do the trick -_ ”

You were so engrossed in Sam’s conversation that you didn’t hear the creak of the floorboards behind you. Something heavy and hard hit the back of your skull and you crumpled, phone clattering to the floor beside you. Sam called your name, the sound cutting out when a booted foot crushed the phone under its heel.

“Of all the bars in all the world,” Tanya murmured, leaning over you to remove your weapons, “you had to walk into mine.”

*****

The throbbing in your head was the first thing you noticed when you finally started to come to. Your bound wrists and feet were second. The noticeable bulge where your gun normally rested at your hip was flat and you knew your knife was missing from your boot.

Tanya stood, leaning against the bar with a wide smile on her ruby lips. “Good morning, princess.”

You groaned and lifted your head, feeling something wet and sticky in your hair. Great, a head injury. Just what you needed to think clearly and stay alive. “So you’re the makire?”

The creature spread her arms, grinning. “Guilty. And I gotta say, I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner.”

Shuffling in your bonds, your stomach sank as you realized she’d secured you pretty well. Tanya laughed, lifting her weight off of the counter.

“Lover boy is gonna be here soon,” she purred, bending over, giving you a view of her ample breasts. “I can’t wait to see which one of you I’m gonna eat.”

“The entrails of dishonest lovers?” you scoffed. “Sam and I aren’t even lovers.”

Tanya’s smile widened. “Love is a complicated thing, sweetheart,” she informed you, straightening as a car door slammed outside the building. “You love him, that’s all that matters.” You struggled as the bar entrance swung open and Sam entered cautiously, gun raised. Tanya stood with one hip jutting out, perfectly manicured fingers spreading over her waist. “Nice of you to join us,” she drawled.

“Who the hell are you?” Sam ground out, disabling the safety on his gun, spotting you on the floor.

She sniffed, an evil cruel twitch to her lips. “Oh, Y/N. You had no idea, all this time?” Sam’s eyes narrowed and you looked up in horror. “I really thought it was gonna be you,” Tanya continued, not taking her attention off of Sam. “But he’s all twisted up with guilt for not telling you.”

“Y/N -” Sam started but Tanya scowled.

“Not gonna do any good telling her now, Sammy,” she scolded, the smile creeping back onto her face. “And that?” A slender finger pointed at his gun. “That isn’t going to hurt me.”

Sam tilted his head, his jaw clenched as he aimed and fired, hitting her between the eyes. Tanya stumbled backward and fell, growling loudly as her body automatically expelled the bullet and healed. You struggled anew, trying to at least get to your feet.

“Sam!” you squealed as Tanya got back up, her features hideous mutated as her true nature came through. “Run!”

If he’d had time, you were sure he would have given you bitch-face for even suggesting he abandon you to save himself. The makire was already on him, practically climbing him like a tree and slashing at him with her long talons. You screamed his name again, unable to do anything but spin on the spot with your arms behind your back.

Sam landed a swift punch to the monster’s gut and she screeched, releasing her hold on him. Blood stained his coat from where Tanya had gotten her claws into his chest and he winced, grabbing the wound as his opponent recouped for round two.

“You’ll satisfy me for days,” she purred, twitching her talons at her sides.

“That’s what all the ladies say,” Sam quipped, withdrawing his machete from underneath his jacket. The makire laughed, shaking her head.

“That can’t hurt me either, silly boy. You can’t stab me through the heart.”

Sam shrugged. “I thought I’d cut your head off and figure out the rest later.” Tanya snarled, crouching low as Sam fell into a defensive stance.

“Sam!” you called, hoping to distract her a little bit. She didn’t move and you grunted, still trying to get up. “Catch!”

That got her attention and she snarled at you with a mouthful of hideous yellow teeth. A second later, Sam swung the machete and the thing’s head came off, rolling across the floor to stop too close to you for comfort. Snarling noises came from the still conscious Tanya-head and you swiftly kicked it to the other side of the bar, satisfied with the crunching noise it made when it bounced off of the wooden wall.

Sam screwed his face up, giving the body a tap with his foot. Without the brain to control it, it was a lump of discolored flesh and he knew that disposing of it quickly was probably a good idea. He rushed to your side, bending down to free you, helping you to your feet.

“Are you okay?” he asked and you nodded, frowning at the two pieces of monster.

“I can’t believe that worked,” you muttered, rubbing your wrists. “What do we do with her now?”

“Actually, Dean already found a way to kill it. We just need some iron filings, salt and… well, blood.” Sam hissed as you touched his chest with a frown.

“That’s going to need stitches,” you pointed out and he flashed you his million-watt smile.

“Good thing I’ve got you to take care of me, huh?”

*****

Sam was a wimp where it came to being sewed up by someone other than himself. And you’d seen his collection of crooked scars. “There’s probably more floss in your body than there ever should have been,” you’d always comment before insisting that someone do a good job for a change.

He remained quiet as you worked, trying to keep your attention from wandering the broad expanse of his bare chest. It took thirty minutes for you to get the gash cleaned and sewn up and Sam smiled when you were done and dressed the wound. “I’m gonna grab a shower,” he murmured.

“Okay,” you whispered, feeling the uncomfortable silence settle back around you as he disappeared. You cleared away the medical supplies, sitting on the edge of your bed and touching the back of your head gingerly. Sam had checked it for you and the cut was superficial but you wanted to shower the blood out of your hair.

After a few moments, Sam emerged, glistening, wet, and wearing nothing but a towel. Your mouth went dry, eyes latching onto his body as he walked around his bed to grab his duffel bag.

“My turn,” you announced, bolting for the door before he could stop you.

“Y/N -” The door slammed and you sank down, wincing at the pain in your shoulder from where Tanya had been a little forceful with her rope tying. Removing and burning the body hadn’t been much fun either but at least it was done. Now you just had to survive the twenty-four-hour drive back to Lebanon.

Sam called your name again and you got back to your feet, frowning and opening the door. He was still on the other side, one hand holding his towel.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing at the bed. The command was an express lane to arousal and you slunk past him, sitting on the edge of his bed with your hands either side. “Talk.”

“What?” The word came out as a squeak and Sam smiled. “I’m not - there’s nothing -” Stuttering was about all you could manage. “What am I supposed to say?” you asked, giving up and letting your posture go slack. Sam’s jaw clenched and he sighed, sitting down next to you.

“I think…” he started, scratching at his head. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“Is that why she said those things?” you whispered. “S-she said you hadn’t told me something.”

Sam sighed, dropping his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Yeah. That… look, you’re my friend, you have been for a long time and I don’t wanna do anything to ruin that.” You raised an eyebrow as you recalled the incident that had already practically ruined your friendship.

“This sounds like a break-up,” you commented.

“Try the opposite,” Sam replied, lifting those multitudinous eyes to meet yours. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. Had been for,” he laughed, shaking his head, “since I laid eyes on you.”

“How very rom-com of you.” The tone with which you spoke was dry and Sam’s laughter increased.

“This entire trip has been a bad chick-flick,” he decided, his posture relaxing a little. The atmosphere seemed a little less tense and you looked at him with a soft smile on your face.

“Which part made you think that? The bed-sharing incident or the heart-to-heart after the monster outed you.”

“She didn’t out me,” Sam defended. “I was intending on telling you at the diner but then… I kinda lost my nerve.” He looked so shy in that moment, you couldn’t help but pout a little. “And then everything happened and that awful fake marriage counselling…”

“Yeah,” you agreed, sighing and rubbing your hands on your thighs nervously. “If it helps -” You closed your eyes, refusing to look at him. “I’m in love with you, too.”

Silence filled the space between you and you tried not to glance at him. When his hand landed on your thigh, covering yours, you failed in your efforts, hating the fact that your eyes were watering when you looked at him.

“I should really shower,” you mumbled, getting to your feet but Sam held your hand tight.

“Y/N -” he called and you turned as he tugged you backward, almost landing in his lap. Sam caught you easily, drawing you into an intense kiss. Your bare toes curled in the carpet when your brain caught up with the action and you responded eagerly, tasting mint on his tongue as it stroked over yours.

It ended too fast and Sam lingered with his forehead against yours, smiling dopily. “Shower,” you whispered. “I’ll be quick.”

*****

Clothes seemed pointless but you had to steady yourself before you left the bathroom, finally clean and wrapped in a fluffy motel towel. Sam was under the covers on his bed, smiling at you and you managed a weak smile back.

“Why the towel?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well,” you stammered out, trying to think of a reason. He’d had his fingers inside you; it was unlikely he’d be put off by cellulite and stretch marks. You were still a woman after all. Shuffling your way toward the bed, you ditched the towel and practically dived underneath the sheets, making Sam chuckle with how graceless you were.

“You know, you’re kind of adorable.”

You smiled awkwardly, pulling the covers up to your neck. “I think the word you’re looking for is clumsy.”

“Nah,” Sam dismissed, shifting onto his side and leaning over you, his lips hovering over yours. “I think  _beautiful_  is better.” There wasn’t any time to protest as his mouth met yours, his tongue darting out to seek entrance. You relaxed a little, moaning when one of his hands slid across your bare belly.

Nerves were making your heart pound just as much as the arousal was. It wasn’t like you had trouble getting laid - sex was sex and most men would take it if offered, but Sam…

Sam was  _different_. Sam had seen you at your worst, covered in blood and guts, puking from curses and the sight of dead bodies because you were the most squeamish hunter in existence. He’d held you up when you couldn’t walk and sat with you in silence when you felt you’d failed.

But somehow the thought of him seeing you properly naked was more terrifying than any of those things.

Your shoulders started to tense again and Sam pulled back, frowning. “You okay? Is -” He looked down at where your bodies were pressed together. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding with a slight smile. “I haven’t… I mean, I have but not..” A disgusted gasp broke into your words. “Sorry, I’m being a teenage girl. This just… I’m nervous.”

Sam grinned, his nose bumping against yours. “You think I’m not?” You shook your head. “Must be a better actor than you then.” Wrinkling your nose into a scowl only made him laugh. He kissed you again, dispelling your thoughts by cupping your breast with his hand, the pad of his thumb working over your nipple, coaxing it to hardness.

You were breathing in short pants now, desperate for more. The space between your thighs was practically throbbing and Sam’s cock lay heavy against your leg. Thoughts of how it had felt pressed up against your ass made you shudder, pulling him in for another kiss.

Taking the sign as a good one, Sam’s touch abandoned your breast, skimming down over your stomach before settling over your mound. The tip of his index finger grazed your folds and you automatically spread your legs, draping one over his thigh.

“Good girl,” he mumbled against your mouth and you whimpered happily at the praise. His fingers parted your pussy lips and you held your breath when he stroked over your clit. “So wet already…”

You didn’t want to point out that you’d just had a shower; you weren’t entirely sure words were possible at that moment. Sam moved his hand further down, pressing two fingers against your entrance and you arched with a gasp.

“Open up for me, baby,” he murmured, his mouth against your cheek, lips twisted in a snarl. His fingers pressed into you and you shivered as they filled you. Sam groaned when you flexed around him, withdrawing his digits a little way before thrusting back in. You keened loudly, turning your head to him and he swallowed down your cries with a kiss, positioning his hand so the heel was against your clit while his fingers continued to slide into your slick channel.

The sounds you made were obscene, bouncing off the walls as Sam continued to fuck you with his fingers. When he curled them up toward your belly, you shrieked and grabbed his bicep, bucking wildly on his hand and Sam smirked wickedly, repeating the action.

You came with a piercing cry that cut off when Sam kissed you, withdrawing his hand and moving so his legs were between yours. “I can’t wait,” he murmured. “Do I need a condom?” Managing to shake your head, you gasped out something about birth control that may have possibly been in English but Sam caught the gist of it.

Fisting his cock, he lined up, teasing you with the tip. You groaned impatiently and he smiled, watching your face as he sank the first thick inch of his dick into your tight hole. The groan became a hitched gasp and Sam responded by sliding into you completely, stopping when his groin was pressing into your clit.

“Fuck,” he choked out, supporting his weight on his elbows as he dove in for another kiss, not giving you any chance to breathe. You broke away forcefully and Sam carried on kissing a path down your neck. Lifting your legs, you wrapped them around his waist, digging your heels into his ass.

“Sam,” you whined, pushing your breasts up against his chest, attempting to get some friction from the thick shaft buried inside you. “Fuck me.”

Sam growled, dragging his teeth across your pulse point as he drew his hips back and slammed into you. You screeched, digging your nails into his back which only served to spur him on. The next thrust was hard enough to make the bed slam into the wall.

He was thicker than anything you’d had inside you before. The tip of his cock was colliding with your cervix almost painfully, but in a way that made you crave more. Sam was snarling like an animal, hands clasping at your shoulders, dragging you down the bed to meet his frantic thrusts.

Your second climax reduced you to a gasping mess underneath him but Sam didn’t seem to be anywhere near done. He fucked you through, sliding his hand down to cup your ass and lift it. The angle changed dramatically and you threw your head back into the pillows. Sam grunted, hunching his body so he could get at your tits with his mouth, torturing each nipple in turn as he fucked into you.

When he shifted so his knees were tucked underneath him, your legs splayed open on his lap, you were sure he was going to break you. Your breasts ached and your clit throbbed - Sam kept going.

“C’mere,” he ordered, pulling you upright and supporting your weight on his lap. “You’re so pretty, baby.” You didn’t even realize the extent of your exposure; Sam made you forget about anything but him. The feeling of him inside you, fucking  _deep_  inside, was overriding every insecurity you could conjure.

He made you feel like a goddess.

“I’m gonna cum,” he muttered, one hand tangled in your hair. “Can I cum inside you?”

You nodded, draping your arms around his shoulders, bouncing on his cock. “Yeah,” you gasped, clenching around him. “Wanna feel it.”

“Goddamn,” Sam hissed, pressing his mouth against yours. “You’re fucking perfect.” You smiled for a brief second before he was slamming up into you, forcing a shrill cry from your lips. Sam grunted, holding the back of your head, kissing you furiously. His cock thickened with his pending climax and he broke from your lips, finishing inside you with a deep growl, using his superior strength to hold you down on his shaft.

The warmth of his cum inside you triggered your final, slightly less extreme orgasm, but it was all your body needed to decide that you’d had enough. Sam took a few seconds to release you, only doing so when he’d stolen one last kiss.

Sleep was beckoning, mixed with the warm glow of extremely satisfying sex. Sam disappeared to clean up and you turned over on your side, smiling languidly. He returned moments later, slipping into bed behind you.

“I’ll call Dean in the morning,” he whispered, kissing the shell of your ear. “Tell him there’s a problem with the car.” His arms hooked around your waist and you giggled. “I think it might take a while to get home.”


End file.
